The Gymnast
She was all of nine years. Her big black eyes shone brightly on her dusky face covered with a thin film of sweat, as she twisted and twirled her little frame from one corner of the porch to the other. We were waiting for our ‘prasad’ in the Kamakhya Devi temple, watching with awe at her adopting different gymnastic postures with ease. She lived in a nearby village. Every day at the crack of dawn, she reached the Kamakhya temple with her sick mother and two younger brothers. She positioned them in front of the gates with the other beggars and scampered her way up the stairs to the porch in front of the main temple to begin her performance. As the sounds of clapping and coins clinking on the floor filled the air, she deftly collected the coins in her belt pouch, simultaneously striking difficult poses in front of her benefactors in a manner of thanks. Once in a while some rich devotee threw a 10-rupee note bringing out a broad smile on the intense face. She had never been to a school, b